Mortal Coil
by Syntyche
Summary: Faced with an extremely difficult choice, what will Obi-Wan do? Can be read as a prequel to "Please Don't Go."


**Title:** Mortal Coil  
**Author:** Syntyche  
**Rating:** G or PG, maybe a little on the sad side. No tissue warnings, though. :)  
**Archive:** Ask me please, just so I know where it's going.  
**Disclaimer:** George Lucas owns anything recognizable; it's entirely his brainchild. We love them and take care of them, and try to return them in as good condition as when we borrowed them (usually). I am not making any money off of this story.  
**Synopsis:** I wish I had one, but I haven't thought of one yet.

With thanks to Jane Jinn for the beta. Comments and feedback are as loved and cherished as Obi-Wan Kenobi. Need I say more?

**Can be read as a prequel to "Please Don't Go."**

Mortal Coil

By: Syntyche

He lay sprawled on his right side, bent head pillowed wearily on one outstretched arm. He would have liked to curl his knees to his chest, both as a protection for his shattered ribs and for a sense of fetal comfort, but he simply lacked the energy or even the will to bat an eyelash, let alone drag his booted feet upwards. The all-consuming need to simply continue to breathe devoured the pitiful remains of his meager strength and so his legs remained tangled one over the other, resting heavily on the cold ground as the unforgiving rock continued to leach the heat from his battered body.

He was wounded in body, crushed in spirit … and heartsick in his soul. He'd been shattered so many times before in his young life and always put back together, nearly whole once again but each time perhaps missing a little more – but this time … this time he was numbingly certain that the pieces were far too small, ground into a fine powder, to ever be repaired again.

The weight of his grief and heart travail was too much, far too much, to bear alone this time, and Obi-Wan Kenobi's trembling, bowed shoulders could not sustain the painful burden any more than his legs would rescind their refusal to allow him to stand and flee from this forsaken place.

His Master had left him. Left him alone, unsupported, lost, and heartbroken. Left him with nothing but a rock and some memories and the precocious child prodigy who had replaced him as worthy to be trained in Qui-Gon's eyes.

He was crying wretchedly, that much he knew and he cursed himself for his weakness. He had been trained far better than this. Qui-Gon was probably sighing his disapproval right now, wherever he was.

His former Master wasn't much for showing emotion.

The exhausted young Jedi made one more futile attempt to coil in on himself and, failing that, was forced to sink deeper into his dismal suffering as he tried feebly to puddle himself further into the familiarity of his damp tunic sleeve. Through the mouth of the small cave he could see that the rain was still coming down in sheets, joining with the wind in blowing and twisting and threatening to shake the frond-like leaves from the thin, swaying trees as the storm's full fury was unleashed upon the small jungle and the bedraggled figure who had been unfortunate enough to be caught outside when the tempest began. Miserably, he turned his face from the view.

"I'm not ready," Obi-Wan moaned, his words muffled as he pressed his face into the dirt. "I'm not ready to be alone, and I'm not ready to train the child … Please don't leave me alone."

*You will do what you must, Obi-Wan. You _**must**_ train the child.*

_No_, Obi-Wan protested silently. He was no more than a mere Padawan himself, thrust into the spotlight of Knighthood because he had succeeded where his Master had failed. He had not the mettle needed for so great a task – he doubted he could even be a successful Master to a fully prepared Initiate! If Qui-Gon, his former Master and respected teacher, well-known throughout the Order and regarded as one of the greatest Jedi swordsmen ever, had failed with a previous apprentice, how could his young Padawan – untested, unready, orphaned – scarcely even **_hope_** to bring an untrained child fully to Knighthood?

How, indeed?

"I can't do it," he whispered, then, bleakly turning blue-grey eyes to the rain-washed sky, weakly lifted a hand of protest. "I can't do it!" he shouted, his fingers reflexively clenching into a fist. "I can't! I have not the skill, not the ability! I cannot train him, Master!" The shrill voice faded to a small, choked sob. "I cannot…"

*Do you trust your own self?*

Qui-Gon's voice again. So cherished.

*Do you trust me?*

Eyes glazed with sorrow slowly lifted from the crook of his elbow. "I … I … " A sigh, and the ginger crown dropped back to the earth. "I do not trust your assessment of me. I'm not, not worth it," he finally answered faintly. "You must be wrong in your estimation of …of … me. My own abilities are far below what would be … required for the task."

The beloved voice was gently amused, but not lacking a hint of sternness. *Obi-Wan. You know far better than that, young one. I have not trained one who would yield his duty, nor do I believe that you would give in to failure. No, Obi-Wan. The time for tears and sorrow has passed. Even now, you have duties to attend to.*

"Duties?" Obi-Wan breathed a miserable attempt at a laugh. Even as he shifted, his broken ribs grated against each other and sent fiery starbursts of pain exploding in his head. "I haven't the strength, Master, please. And I – I'm so alone. Why did you leave me?" he whispered brokenly. "Why am I alone?"

To that, there was no reply, and Obi-Wan found it bitterly ironic. His fingers absently grasped for the long braid trailing across his chest, but his hand clenched at empty air. Startled, Obi-Wan carefully felt the silken hair behind his right ear, but the ginger strands there were neatly trimmed against his neck – not woven into a symbol of Jedi apprenticeship.

_I am truly alone now_, he realized. And with that thought, the weight of his new responsibilities came crashing down on his weary shoulders.

"I'm so tired … " he whispered, and it was almost a plea. "It hurts so much. Please … " But he knew his entreaties were in vain, and even as he uttered them he was slowly bracing a hand underneath his chest to prepare to rise. The strong line of his jaw clenched as he drew a sharp breath and pushed himself to his knees, where he sat swaying as the dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.

"All right," he murmured, "you win. Though," a tiny light glimmered in his blue eyes, one that Qui-Gon would have recognized well as a flash of his Padawan's typical battle humor before pain rendered his eyes dull again, "I truly would have liked to have joined you." Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around his ribs and struggled to his feet, biting back the invective that sprang to his lips as the full extent of his debility made itself very well known and he staggered dizzily, barely making it to the lip of the cave before crashing to his knees, biting agony racing up and down his frame. A groan forced its way past his throat, sliding between clenched teeth and the rain threaded its way through his hair as he bowed his head in despair. The pain in his body he forcefully ignored. The pain in his heart … was everything.

"I don't want to be alone," he told the ground softly, shaking his head. Water droplets wound across the top of his ear and streaked across his cheek to drip off the tip of his nose. "I don't want to go on alone," the words came on the breath of a sigh. "I don't want to be alone."

How long he knelt in the rain, with the unbearable tightness in his chest slowly crushing him, Obi-Wan wasn't certain. He only stared bleakly into the drenched foliage as he repeated numbly over and over again, "Please don't make me be alone. **_Please_**."

After some time, he slowly lifted blue-grey eyes to the heavens. Blinking at the rain that spattered his upturned face, he listened carefully for the voice that again whispered on the wind.

*Duty.*

Obi-Wan trembled. "A…alone?" he asked, though he knew the answer that would come.

*If you feel you must.*

"What other choice have I, then?" he murmured miserably and, unexpectedly, he received a reply.

*You have that with which you have been raised to trust since your very birth, Padawan. Do not now, in the time you need it most, forsake it as useless to you.*

"The Force," Obi-Wan sighed in realization. He had always trusted it for its prescience abilities, and in moments of need, _and_ as an outlet for his anger, but … could he trust it in a time of self-doubt? Could he lean on it as more than a temporary solution and truly let it guide him? Was he opening himself up for rejection and emptiness if he released his insecurities and hesitations to the Force? He'd been trained his entire young life to rely on the Force, but when it came right down to it, when there was nothing left but he and a world of uncertainty, could he truly believe? He hurt, so badly. He was so very tired and so very, very doubtful of his abilities. Could he overcome these obstacles to fully trust the Force and follow through on his promise to his master?

Finally, Obi-Wan sighed. "I gave you my word," he acknowledged softly. "If I can, I will."

Once more, he struggled to his feet and once more, his broken ribs grated against each other as he shifted his weight. His legs prickled in protest at being forced to move again after so long a time, and bright flashes in his vision turned the rain shower into a lightning storm as he stumbled from the cave. He would find his shuttle and return to Coruscant, and follow through on his promise. Carefully, Obi-Wan wrapped himself in the warm light of the Force, and felt it soothe the aches and take away the harshness of his injuries. The young Jedi allowed himself a small, pleased smile, and wearily trudged on. He resolved that, since he was moving again, he would return his self-doubt to the carefully locked corner of his mind – there would be time later, if he thought he needed it, to release his insecurities to the Force, but for now he would merely rely on it to see him safely to his shuttle. There was no need to tempt fate and he didn't think he was quite ready to make that final leap of faith and fully submit the Force just yet. Later, perhaps, he would.

His strength faltered. Three times Obi-Wan stumbled, fell, and rose again, but the fourth time, when a fit a coughing drove him to his knees and he tasted the metallic tang of blood rushing from his lips, he could no longer muster the strength to rise and lay where he had fallen, in a puddle of his own blood that was rapidly spread and disseminated by the continued onslaught of the rain.

_I'm sorry,_ he thought hazily. _I tried. I really did._ He realized faintly that he was dying, alone, and despite his desperate attempt at famed Jedi calm and his earlier determination to rely on the Force, he trembled at the thought. _Alone._ Oh, Force. He was terrified.

A solitary tear tracked its way down his cheek and mingled with the rain. Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

"Obi-Wan?" A sharp intake of breath, but the worried voice gentled into one of immeasurable pity, "Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan whimpered as long arms tenderly gathered him from the cold ground, and, as much as he hated himself for doing it, buried his head in the strong shoulder, seeking comfort and solace.

"Shh," the much-honored voice whispered, "it's all right. You've done well, Obi-Wan. You've passed the test, and you've nothing to be ashamed of, Padawan, nothing."

Shamed, Obi-Wan found the strength to bite back a bitter laugh. Passed the test? That was a laugh; no – no, he'd managed to fail quite miserably and quite spectacularly indeed. Qui-Gon didn't know the other, unexpected part of the test and Obi-Wan's stubborn refusal to depend entirely on the Force. Obi-Wan looked up into his master's face and forced himself to speak. "I didn't want to die alone, Master," he admitted warily. "I was afraid."

His Master smiled gently at him. "You were willing to go on even when you doubted your abilities, Obi-Wan. That was what the examination entailed." There was a pause as Qui-Gon took in the ashen, drawn face of his Padawan. "Do you want to talk about the test, Padawan? Tell me what else it was about?"

Obi-Wan knew the answer immediately, already pushing aside the scenario that had been presented to him of a lost Master and a hasty, dangerous promise. That would **_not_** happen. He wouldn't **_let_** it. "No, Master."

Qui-Gon regarded him carefully, noting the determination in the shadowed eyes and the firm set of the pale jaw. "That's all right, Obi-Wan." He straightened the trailing padawan braid and squeezed Obi-Wan's damp shoulder warmly. "I'm proud of you, Padawan."

Obi-Wan gave a half-smile in return. _You shouldn't be._ With Qui-Gon's assistance, he rose slowly, marveling as he stretched the kinks out of his frame at how real the pain had been, both in his body and in his soul when he'd realized that he was alone.

"I am," Qui-Gon replied, and Obi-Wan started, not realizing that he had broadcasted his demur quite so clearly. "And you're not alone, Padawan. Never alone." He guided Obi-Wan away from the cave that was so immersed by the dark side of the Force and back toward the clearing that held their shuttle. "Come on. Let's go home."

Obi-Wan smiled sadly, studying carefully the strong features of his master: the proud, leonine face, the laughing eyes, the slightly crooked nose, and silently vowed again to himself that the future that had been presented to him in the test would not come to pass.

He wouldn't let it.

_-finis  
_  
A/N: Just basing this on Obi-Wan's troubles with the 'living' force, and maybe that's why he has some of the difficulty with Anakin that he does; it's not until later in life that he learns to rely on the force for anything beyond immediate need. Shrug. Just a thought.


End file.
